


Sunset

by KUG



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minecraft but IRL, Not Beta Read, Not Really Character Death, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Realistic Minecraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26419816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KUG/pseuds/KUG
Summary: "It’s a nice memory to reflect on, especially while bleeding out on a beach far from home. Blood bubbles in his throat as he looks up at the stars and tries to cling to the sunset in his mind."Sunrise, sunset; die, respawn. At least he's not alone
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 236





	Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> Minecraft but IRL basically. Respawning is a thing, but doesn't happen often and is a somewhat long and draining process. I wrote most of this late at night on my phone and it's not really that thoroughly edited so enjoy :)  
> This is meant to be interpreted as totally platonic because that's how I've written it (but if you want to put on your shipping goggles then I can't really stop you ig)

Sapnap licked salt from his fingers and then leaned over to reach for the book. George snatched it away from his reach with an indignant squawk of “Sapnap, that’s _disgusting_!” He stuck out a boot and aimed for Sapnap’s precariously balanced plate, and he had to snatch it out of the way before George could knock it over.

“ _I’m_ disgusting?” He glared at George. “You’re disgusting! You tried to put your boot in my food!”

“Well you tried to put your nasty slobbery fingers on this priceless artifact!”

As the squabble started to turn into a full blown argument, Dream laughed from across the fire. It was warm close to the flames, they had good food and a sturdy shelter, and adventures ahead of them tomorrow. Still chuckling, he tipped his head back to gaze up at the sunset sky, smiling because he was with his friends and nothing could be better.

It’s a nice memory to reflect on, especially while bleeding out on a beach far from home. Blood bubbles in his throat as he looks up at the stars and tries to cling to the sunset in his mind.

George’s hand in his is cold and clammy, but there’s just enough of a pulse fluttering under his finger to let Dream know that he’s still stubbornly clinging to life. The stars disappear behind Sapnap’s silhouette as he stumbles to his knees beside Dream. Starlight is not enough to see him clearly, but Dream can hear his ragged breathing, and the smell of blood and monster gore that surrounds him is overpowering.

Dream rides out the wave of pain that floods his system when Sapnap reapplies pressure the wound in his shoulder. It may be a fruitless gesture but Sapnap has to try.

“Not like this,” Dream hears him mutter, “Not like this. Please, please not like this. It was just a game.”

Coughing blood, Dream wishes he had the strength to tell him that it’s okay. Everything will be okay. The sand beneath him is wet from blood or seawater; it’s hard to know which as it grows cool.

Something growls out in the dark and Sapnap releases Dream’s shoulder, scrabbles for his sword in the damp sand, and goes to face whatever it is. If his friends are going to die, it will be a quiet death, as gentle as he can possibly allow. He won’t let them be torn to pieces; that’s the fate he’s chosen for himself in their place.

With dimming eyes Dream watches the stars wheel overhead, and listens to the hiss of the incoming waves and the distant sound of Sapnap dying a slow warrior’s death, each cry full of rage and pain and defiance in equal measure. It hurts to listen but he won’t ignore it. Beside him, George is still, his pulse feeble against Dream’s fingers. Ignoring his wounds, Dream gathers his fading strength and shifts closer until he can just barely feel George’s faint breath on his cheek.

He lies there, watching the sky shift from black to gray with the encroaching dawn, and holds to George’s pulse; he feels like he holds his friend’s very heart between his fingertips. He counts the seconds between each breath until the stars begin to fade and the last one comes as a sigh, brushing his cheek like a kiss and a promise.

He is too tired to do much more than squeeze George’s wrist just once to wish him farewell.

The last stars are dying out as Sapnap returns, sword tip dragging a furrow in the sand, dripping a thick dark trail of crimson at every stumbling step. With gold just beginning to bleed into the sky, he abandons his blade and sinks down at last to rest. Dream can barely twitch his head towards Sapnap, but when a red-slicked hand fumbles for his he can give a small squeeze to tell his friend that he succeeded, that he didn’t die torn apart and suffering. He feels relief in the way Sapnap squeezes gently back.

Satisfied, Sapnap nestles his bloodied face in the crook of Dream’s neck and sighs once. Just like George: a kiss and a promise.

Alone, Dream watches the sun rise at last, but neither its newborn heat nor the fading warmth of Sapnap’s lifeblood can chase away the chill he feels settling into his bones. He doesn’t have any reason to stay now, he was only waiting to make sure that they didn’t have to be alone in the end.

Dream closes his eyes and falls asleep.

The pulse beneath his fingers is steady and strong, slow with sleep but rhythmic as the tides. The face against his shoulder is warm, soft, and clean, and each breath is followed by another as regular as the sunrise. Slowly he opens his eyes to a wooden roof overhead, the plain brown planks turned honey-golden with late afternoon sun. The peculiar pattern of knots and cracks is familiar, and Dream breathes deep and smells cornflowers and dandelions.

He’s home.

Curled up on his right, Sapnap nestles closer; on his left George stretches but doesn’t wake. This is Dream’s bed, so they came to wait for him, ready to surround him with warmth when he woke. Respawning is never a pain free process, and in his mind’s eye Dream can see how they must have stumbled from their beds, aching and stiff but still moving to anticipate his return. It makes his chest ache, not just from the phantom pain of the wound that killed him.

Sapnap has already laid claim to his hand, intertwining their fingers together, but his grip is loose with sleep so Dream takes up the slack and gives a small squeeze. Still asleep, Sapnap returns the gesture instinctually, then rubs his face on Dream’s shoulder with a grumble. George understood what Dream must have felt in his last moments, and has left his wrist in his hand so that Dream can feel his heartbeat. It doesn’t take but a moment to shift his grip and lace their fingers together, and when Dream squeezes his hand George does the same. Just like Sapnap, mimicking a wordless promise that’s been shared so many times it’s become a habit, even in their sleep.

Although exhaustion drags at his body and mind, Dream lies awake and watches the sunset light fade from the room. Above the rhythmic breathing of his friends he can just hear the hum of voices from downstairs drifting through the open window, interrupted occasionally by an outburst of laughter and hissed admonishment. The smell of baking bread and roasting vegetables wafts in and mingles with the scent of the flowers. Bad and Skeppy are cooking dinner, trying to keep quiet for the sake of their exhausted friends. Dream can’t help but smile; he’ll have to do something nice for them in return.

The room is still golden when Sapnap stirs and lifts his head to look around groggily. His eyes land on Dream’s face and a sleepy smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“Welcome back.”

The words, low though they were, prompt George to wake too, and he stretches all his limbs downward like a cat before he rolls to look at Dream and says “hello, you’re finally up.”

Dream chuckles, voice hoarse and crackly from sleep, and basks in the warmth of the sunset and his friends. They’re tucked against him alive and whole and safe, and it’s all he can ask for. By tomorrow they’ll probably all be complaining about the treasure they lost when they died on the beach last night, but right now it’s enough to just be safe together.

Nothing could be better.

**Author's Note:**

> my younger self is absolutely appalled at me right now, writing technically rpf in the year 2020. Basically this year couldn't possibly be more cursed so I am posting my cringe fic anyway whatever


End file.
